


Butterfly Effect

by Ladibard_Wordsmith28



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Foreplay, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:47:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23971048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladibard_Wordsmith28/pseuds/Ladibard_Wordsmith28
Summary: Hermione Granger presents Severus Snape a gift on the night of her graduation.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 3
Kudos: 85





	Butterfly Effect

Disclaimer: I don’t own HP world, but all Au and Ocs are my babies. This is 15 years old idea, that finally saw the light of the day and burnt with the flames of the night lamp.

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**Butterfly Effect**

_“Sometimes you don’t need words to say it. Your thoughts are mirrored by your eyes. Your beliefs translate themselves into your habits and your secret cravings swirl upon the dark surface of your mind which is nothing but a black and blue pond tantalizing your senses.”_

_It was written behind the parchment that on the other side carried the most thorough and well-researched thesis the Potion Master had ever had the honor to read. It was an old work. But the lines had made his mind frenzy with unknown fantasies. The world still preferred to consider him with a two-dimensional lookout. “He is dangerous and brilliant. Stay away from him.” He was still the snarling, greasy, unjust, unapproachable professor. Only the word apathy had been replaced with reverence._

_Students walked into his class without making a noise, they worked on their potions with heads bowed and no one whispered unnecessarily, they took notes, asked questions politely and left their finished brews in vials lined up and secured in the collection rack. No playing pranks, no pulling and pushing, and no scuffles outside the potions classroom door. It was like the entire student body had tuned themselves to meet his comfort. They did nothing to anger him or make him annoyed at the slightest._

_“Imagine teens behaving like angels!” the headmistress Minerva McGonagall had advised him when he reported to her these disquieting incidents. The old lady had peered over her reading glasses and he did not miss the shadow of mischievous smile dancing over her pursed lips._

_“You know something! Is this a bet going around?”_

_“For once, Severus, the students are acting as they are expected under the circumstances.”_

_“Hormonal teens don’t act like robots!”_

_“Robo…what?”_

_Massaging his temple with his long and scarred fingers, he tried again, “They are not imperioed are they?! Then why?”_

_“Perhaps they wish to thank you…”_

_Squinting his eyes, he groaned, “Thank me, Minerva, are you drunk?”_

_Every now and then, this debate took place either in the confines of the headmistress’s gargoyle office or in the bowels of the castle, to be specific at the potion master’s personal study. The former spy had detailed in crisp words how the Hufflepuff let baked cookies at his door, how the Ravenclaws owled him rare potion books or articles which were otherwise prized possessions of Filius Flitwick’s marvelous common room. The Gryffindors greeted him with a subtle nod and stayed away from picking fights with the Slytherins. His snakes were still confused and lost. They neither came to him nor did they sort out the comforts of their families. They just survived as a group._

_What he did not mention categorically was how the Head Girl fitted into this whole puzzling affair. He had caught her watching him, through the half-filled empty glass of pumpkin juice during breakfast. During potion classes, she would observe him while idly playing with her quills. He had noticed her eyelashes were a shade darker than the strands of her quill. She was always the first student to enter his class and the last to leave. And throughout the lesson with about 20 students from the houses, stirring, measuring ingredients, writing down instructions, asking him specific queries and the sound of their hissing and gurgling caldrons, both of them took time to notice each other. During one such scrutiny, he had realized her skin had finally bid farewell to her freckles. She still preferred the ordinary look, though, at times, she did add a dust of powder or a thin sheen of a gloss. Of course, there were days, when he did see right through her thick glamour spells._

_He knew she did not sleep and also knew this; she was aware that neither did he. Did it annoy him that someone was peeling off his disguise layer by layer? For a change, it did not. For a change, he enjoyed the slow and teasing reveal. And why should he, he had a second chance to live again and if teaching was the only way he could live within the walls of Hogwarts, he was not going to complain about someone paying some attention to him. He had made one discovery after the other. She had a thin nick right next to her left pulse point on her neck. She did chew her nails but left both the middle and ring fingers untouched._

_The other day, when he had been supervising Hannah Abbott’s Skelegro potion, he had habitually placed his palm over the desk. Right next to the Head Girl’s several parchments. While watching the Hufflepuff girl cut the roots into precise dices, he had felt the pinpricks of a finger traveling over the top of his hand. Gripping the table with his other hand he had tried hard to stand unaffected. She resorted to lazily caress over his raised vein. There was an innocent parchment filled with her cursive writing for everyone to see. Right below it was her hand and underneath were his trembling larger one receiving her rhythmic caress._

_If the universe was to think this was one singular out of the blue indecent incident- he could very well ignore it. It was the first time some had sorted him out, the first time someone had shown him how a little touch to ease away the pain. The night before, he had been at Albus Dumbledore’s grave, hacking and sniveling at the foot of the white tombstone, pleading forgiveness. He was still to find the courage to visit the astronomy tower. He had returned to the castle soaked and disheveled, his hair plastered over his white face. There, beside the giant wooden door, stood Hermione Granger, sniffing and crying. Could rules and punishments make the girl forget the war she had survived through? Standing on the bottom steps, he noticed they both were at the same level. She hugged herself tighter, her lips bleeding after she had bitten them raw, her eyes puffed up and her button nose blotched red. She had been shaking like a leaf. Could he chastise her then? Could he bark and mock her? Humiliate her once again?_

_He had raised his index finger to wipe off the stream of tears that freely tumbling down her wide eyes. If her eyes had widened in shock of his blunt display of care, it had soon closed shut in relief. Neither of them had said a single word, as the potion master had escorted the trembling girl through the deserted corridors of the sleeping school back to the warmth of her privileged suit._

The returning 7th and 8th year have graduated today. They would leave by the morning train. She would leave as well because she now had to claim the world for herself. He, on the other hand, would sit here continue teaching, living a quiet life for the rest of his days. He started rereading her essay. Above, in the Great Hall, they had organized a farewell party. That would surely get extended into the four common rooms.

At Minerva’s request, he was present but only till the end of Headmistress’s speech. Discreetly watched her. Relishing how her eyes were perusing him, instead of paying attention to her Head of the House. He watched the fire die on its own at the blackened fireplace, watched how the flames reflected over the amber liquid in the tumbler. Tonight, he discovered he did not wish to taste firewhiskey ever again. Neither did he look at the clock over the mantle.

There was a knock at his office door. Instead of waving his hand to spell it open, he stood up and walked till the door, twisting the old knob, he cracked it open. There she stood in her forest green off-shoulder gown, that hugged her in the right places. Her eyes were burning with hunger and he could see her lips trembling with questions she dared not to ask. Cheeks flushed and blushes travelling down her slender neck, leaping gracefully over her collar bone and mercilessly hide beneath her dress. When she sucked in her breathe, she realized he had been watching her chest rise and fall for too long. Closing his eyes, giving himself a mental shake, schooling his features, he whispered, “What do you want, Miss Granger?”

She rose on her tiptoes and whispered some centimeters away from his sharp chin, “Couldn’t leave you like this…” Even his memory swirling in the mists of his pensive had failed to help him in reconstructing the events that had followed. Did his sharp-edged lips find hers first, or was it his arm that had pulled her flash against his broad chest, though he was definite about that only after securely her against his firm body, he had shut the door, placing the series of silencing and locking charms for additional privacy. He had hoisted her petite body up against the wooden door, and to his surprise, she had answered his groaning passion by wrapping her stocking-less legs around his thin waist. This was no longer inappropriate. As he had bent his head lower to nip and lick her creamy flashed bare neck, he had felt her grip his head by his hair. Catching her sweaty earlobe in between his teeth he had managed to groan softly,” What do you want, Miss Granger?”

His flowering Lolita had replied with a pronounced flex of her legs and decisive grind over his tenting trousers. He could smell her, ingredient by ingredient- but it was the smell of her arousal, that made him cross over that final threshold. Thrusting against her harder than he had intended, he asked gruffly, “What do you want, Miss Granger?” his lips toying with her lobe.

“You, Severus Snape”. With that she had shredded her hibernating cocoon, spread out her butterfly wings and pulling his hair harder, forcing him to release her red ear lobe, undermining his hiss and grunt, she claimed his lips as hers to kiss.

  
  



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